OutKast, the Atlanta-based hip-hop duo of Big Boi and Andre 3000, is poised to make that rare transition from momentarily successful and popular musical act to stupendously wealthy and lavishly acclaimed musical act. As history has shown countless times, the move from the first category to the second is a lot more difficult than you think. For every U2 there are a hundred Tommy Tutones.

Who?

That's my point. Does anybody remember Tommy Tutone? (Hint: 867-5309.)

But OutKast is well on its way toward A-list acclaim, as evidenced by the fact that Big Boi and Andre 3000 seem to be everywhere. They recently appeared on "Saturday Night Live" and gave a lively, impossible-to-resist performance. Their song "Hey Ya" is a huge hit and has shouldered its way into almost constant radio rotation. Their Grammy-nominated album, "Speakerboxxx/The Love Below," made numerous critics' lists for best album of 2003. It's smart, funny, irreverent and wildly inventive. I really like it.

Sadly, that's why OutKast is doomed.

There's no point in tiptoeing around this: If a 50-year-old, no-dancing, style-challenged, pickup truck-driving, country-living white man is grooving on the urban-rooted hip-hop OutKast is playing, how cool and cutting-edge can it be? The moment the original members of OutKast's audience spot me holding a Bic lighter in the air at a show, the reaction will be immediate and irreversible: Whoa. If that guy's here, it's time for us to leave.

In other words, when someone like me becomes part of the fan base, OutKast is just a half-step away from becoming this generation's Lawrence Welk -- beloved by the codgers, ignored (or worse, mocked) by the hip and cool.

OutKast had better collect an armload of Grammys this weekend. There might not be a second chance. It's downhill from here.

That's the conundrum of mainstream success. If you're a performer or film director or writer, the thing that helps you break from the pack and become hugely popular -- your freshness, edginess and brilliance -- is then transformed into a deadly weight around your neck. The people who liked you when you were a cult favorite end up resenting your popularity, because they're no longer part of a small, elite group. Meanwhile, the johnnies-come-lately (like me) are with you only as long as you're doing the same thing that got you all that widespread fame in the first place. God help you if you evolve.

This is why The Eagles, all these years later, are still playing "Hotel California." I suspect that a little piece of them dies every time they have to play it -- but if they don't, who's going to pay to see them? All those people who think Eminem has lost his edge?

There's a chance, of course, that OutKast will escape this fate. The duo isn't necessarily fated to share a future New Year's Eve billing with Celine Dion and Wayne Newton.

But the more I listen, the worse it looks for them.

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